


Some Boys

by JSheets716



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Shipping, Songfic, W2H - Freeform, sockathan - Freeform, welcome to hell - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSheets716/pseuds/JSheets716
Summary: This fic is based off of "Some Boys" by Deathcab for Cutie. Sock isn't sure how he feels about Jonathan Combs, the boy he's assigned to haunt. But he does feel the stirrings of something, especially as he gets to know Jonathan better. Feelings are complicated, especially when you're a homicidal demonary who isn't used to having any. As Sock tries to make sense of everything, Jonathan tries dating Lil, a girl in his class, and finds that his feelings are just as complex and nuanced."Some boys don't know how to love."





	Some Boys

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took me AGES to write. But it's finally done. Special thanks goes to Writ, who helped me by beta-ing this story and making it much more coherent.

**_“Some boys are filling, some boys are filling the hole…”_ **

It was grueling work. The metal shovel scraped against the dirt and gravel as the teen hacked open the earth. First one hole, and then another, and then a third. He supposed that he was probably better off using one of the numerous pre-established graves, but the idea of doing so felt wrong somehow. His parents deserved their own private resting place. So he dropped the bodies into the two graves he had dug for them, before staring down into the dark chasm that was his own. And after a few private last words to himself, he buried the knife in his own chest, and fell into the hole.

 

**_“They're making the killing from the top of the billings…”_ **

Killing things had been so easy before. A stab wound to the chest here, a puncture wound to an artery there, and down would go the unfortunate animal caught in range of his knife. Hell, even his parents had been an easy mark, and Sock hadn't meant to kill them at all.

But Jonathan? Jonathan was a different matter entirely. How did you convince someone to kill himself? For Sock, the matter of taking his own life had come without hesitation. He had nothing to live for. But as Sock peered over Jonathan’s file for the umpteenth time, he couldn't quite figure out why Jonathan was still holding on. Or what he was going to do to get this guy to punch his own ticket...

Jonathan’s relationship with his parents was average at best. The psychological profile that Mephistopheles had prepared didn’t offer any hidden weaknesses or emotional instabilities. Jonathan hated everyone and everything equally. Without anything to exploit, how was Sock supposed to do his job?

 

**_“Their role, but that's all that they know…”_ **

Being a demon was simpler than Sock thought. Floating came naturally, and so did intangibility and the ability to toy with the physical realm.

His job, however, was harder. Jonathan hadn’t fallen for sweet promises of what Hell was like, and any attempts Sock made to annoy him to death only seemed to make Jonathan cling to life even more. But as frustrating as the job had been, Sock had no choice but to stick with it. The threat of being “fired” alarmed him, especially since it was one of the few times where Mephistopheles seemed entirely serious. So he committed to the role as best as he could, and he began to torment Jonathan everywhere: gym class, the locker room, at lunch, even at the urinal.

 

**_“Some boys don't listen, some boys don't listen at all…”_ **

“Come on, Jonathan, a little death never killed anyone!” Sock insisted, and Jonathan snapped back a retort before he put on his headphones. His security blanket, of sorts, and Sock knew that his day was pretty much over. Jonathan was going to shut him out for the rest of the day, as he had on days when Sock was just too much for the anti-social teenager. Sock hated those stupid purple headphones.

It took a few days of being ignored, but eventually Sock was prompted to ask: “Whatcha listenin’ to?” Jonathan’s expression hadn't changed as he replied. “Valhalla Soundbox.” Sock answered back. “Never heard of em.” It was then that Jonathan’s entire countenance changed to one of surprise. “Seriously? You're unbelievable” the blonde said, handing the headphones to Sock.

 

**_“They don't ask for permission, they lack inhibitions, no walls…._ **

Good morning, Hot Stuff!” Sock called from behind the shower curtain, floating above the toilet seat as if he were sitting on it. He heard a low groan of frustration that echoed throughout the tiled bathroom in reply

“I can't even shower without you bugging me now?”

“Nope. So how's about I hop in and join ya? I'll wash your back…” Sock flirted, and though he couldn't see it, he could almost _feel_ Jonathan tensing from inside the tub. Before Jon could protest, Sock flew forward, diving into the curtain, and Sock’s ears were greeted with a very loud scream of surprise from the usually apathetic teen.

There was Jonathan, caked in soap, frantically trying to cover himself. Sock let out a low, wolfish whistle of approval, much to the scarlet Jonathan’s chagrin.

“DUDE, GET OUT!”

 

**_“And they get what they want. But some boys don't know how to love…”_ **

It was the only cemetery in town, and Sock seemed to know his way around. He had brought Jonathan here because he had a surprise, and Jonathan scowled at the demon as the two of them stood over a freshly dug plot of earth. “TA-DA! Look at this nice hole the gravedigger dug for you! And it’s just your size!”  
  
“I’m not getting down there.”  
  
“But I’m buried in this cemetery! If you die, we can haunt this place together.”  
  
“An eternity together. With you. Yay.” Jon muttered sarcastically, before pausing, really registering the words Sock was saying. “Wait… you’re buried HERE?” he asked, nonplussed. He was not expecting Sock to be from his neighborhood. He hadn't seen Sock around, though, he was sure of that. It was hard to miss a red-headed boy in a skirt.

“Yep. With my parents. I killed them in my sleep.” Sock replied, with an air of nonchalance. He supposed it should have bothered him, especially with the horrified look Jonathan had given in response, but Sock wasn't affected one bit. But when Jonathan wouldn’t stop staring at him, Sock gave him a weird look in turn. “What?” he asked, honestly confused.  
  
“You _KILLED_ them?” Jonathan stated, enunciating the middle word to be clear he heard correctly. He dug a pinky into his right ear and tried to fish out whatever earwax that was lodged in there. There was no way he heard that correctly. But once again, Sock nodded without flinching.  
  
“I mean, it was an accident, but yeah.”  
  
“And you don’t feel bad about it?” Jon asked, in disbelief. Sock shrugged. What was there to feel bad about? Jon studied his demon carefully, deciding to be a bit more cautious around the happy-go-lucky Sock.

 

**_“Some boys are singing, some boys are singing the blues….”_ **

The thick, calloused hands plucked at the strings of the guitar, checking the sound. Jonathan hated having to tune it, and more than once an errant string had snapped, though such occurrences happened less frequently as of late. Jonathan had learned the temperament of his finicky instrument.

With the guitar tuned, Jonathan began to play, absentmindedly strumming at first, until an idea struck. He decided to play out his favorite Valhalla Soundbox song, a deep and sad melody of lost love. He closed his eyes and began to sing along, first quietly to himself, and then louder when he found himself getting carried away. His voice was rough and unpolished, but it carried through the empty school band room, out the slightly ajar door into the hallway.

When he was finished, he opened his eyes and saw he had two eavesdroppers. The first was Sock, who was staring at him with an odd look in his eyes, a light blush on his cheeks, examining him with a look that was absolutely foreign for the demon. It was as if Sock was _really_ looking at him, for the first time, as if he needed to latch on to every significant detail of Jonathan’s face. The second was a girl with purple hair. She was in two of his classes, and he found himself matching Sock’s complexion as he met her rich brown eyes. A smirk of bemusement was on her face.

“Nice song.” Lil complimented.  
  
“...Thanks?” Jon asked, embarrassed at being heard.

“Play me another.”

**  
_“Joylessly flinging with the girls that they're bringing to their rooms..”_ **

Sex wasn't what Jonathan expected. He had anticipated it be to something he had seen out of a porno. But Lil hadn't been like any of the girls he had seen in the videos, and sex hadn't been as easy as the performers made it look. It was messy, full of trial and error, and it was cumbersome.

But above all else, it didn't _feel_ like he expected. Physically, it felt good. But something felt missing. He was pretty sure he had done everything correctly; there hadn't been any pain for either of them, and he had been able to achieve orgasm without much trouble. But it felt... _off_. Was it because he was no longer a virgin? Or was it because he didn't love her? Even afterward, slipping on his green converse and throwing on his hoodie, he hadn't felt any sort of pangs of longing for her as he observed Lil relaxing on his bed, hair and bedsheets all tussled.

“I'll walk you to the bus stop.” He offered. He didn't say anything all the way to the stop, only half paying attention as Lil went on about school. He flinched when her hand reflexively went to grab his, but didn’t pull away, not wanting to offend her. Jon was surprised to feel a wave of relief after Lil’s bus pulled away with her on it.

 

**_“And then leave them, they're through…”_ **

It had been the third fight this week, and the eighth fight that month, and Jonathan had been quick to leave Lil’s place once the argument got too heated. He slipped on his headphones and he stomped down the street, music blaring, and he tried to use the music to silence out all the frustrations of the week:

There had been arguments with Lil, a failed geometry test, and of course, Sock Sowachowski, who had ribbed Jonathan endlessly about his new “girlfriend” perhaps a bit too mercilessly. As if on cue, Sock floated up from behind him, appearing in his vision as he floated above the teen before dropping down in front of him with a loud “BLARGH!” Jonathan ignored him, passing through the demon without even reacting. Sock stared after his human in confusion, before zipping after him. _Another fight?_

Only when they were home, and Jon had removed the headphones did Sock speak, as Jonathan wouldn’t have heard him before: “So did I miss the big fight?” the demon asked, and when Jonathan didn't answer, as if confirming his suspicions, Sock quipped. “Your girlfriend totally won this round, didn't she? I bet she kicked your ass…”

“No one won anything, and she's not my girlfriend. I don't give a damn about her.” Jonathan admitted, surprised at how true the words rang in his ears.  
  
  
“ ** _Some boys are sleeping, some boys are sleeping alone….”_**

Jonathan turned over as he roused from his sleep and checked his phone. No messages from Lil. The time read 2:06, and he bemoaned his luck. School tomorrow. Another test, which he hadn’t studied for. And a homicidal little demon breathing down his neck, egging him to hang himself every weekday. Lil had been a nice distraction, sure, but he found that he didn’t feel any better whether she was around or in absence. And absent she was. She had missed two days of school post-breakup, only to return with a vengeance and make very public declarations; declarations of Jon’s selfishness and inexperience in the bedroom. Declarations against his manhood and his ability to satisfy her. Declarations he ignored completely.  
  
Ignoring Lil came easy to him. She was far easier to ignore than a demon, because she was only in two of his classes. And as a fellow outcast like himself, she hadn’t had much in the way of friends. She’d heal in time, however. He was sure of it. She seemed resilient. He supposed part of him should have felt bad that he hurt her like he had, but he had enough of his own problems to worry about. Like his terrible sleep schedule.

When another half an hour clicked by with nothing but his own irritated thoughts keeping him awake, he decided to take a walk. Maybe a bit of light exercise would tucker him out, and if not, at least he could attempt to clear his head. He got dressed and crept out of the house. He was met with crisp winter air, and he shivered slightly as he thrust his hands into his pockets and kept walking, not quite sure where he was going, but walking anyway.

  
“ ** _'Cause there's no one that's keeping them warm through the evening…”_**

Jonathan hadn't meant to, but he ended up at the graveyard. The gate was barely closed together with a rusted metal lock and chain, and he was just barely able to squeeze through the small opening he made. He began to meander around, his music turned up, briefly wondering if he'd run into any ghosts. A year ago he would have chided himself for such an idea, but then he met Sock. Now he wouldn't have been surprised if zombies began sprouting from the graves to roam the earth.

He lit up a cigarette to keep warm. It was a recent habit he had started that he stole from Lil, and he found it relaxing. As he walked amongst the graves, not bothering to examine them in the inky blackness of the night, he spotted a figure standing underneath a tree. He recognized the ridiculous looking hat anywhere, and he paused, watching Sock crouching in front of three makeshift graves, muttering to himself. He cursed his luck running into Sock, and waited. When nothing else of note happened, he approached, and spoke out, his voice cutting through the quiet, stiff winter air.

“This where your body is?” Jon asked, taking a pull of his cigarette, watching Sock whirl around in surprise. Sock stared at Jonathan, his face glowing from the dim light of the cigarette, studying him in turn. The demon nodded his head in answer, and it was then Jonathan noticed the inscriptions of the graves: “Mom”, “Dad”, and “Me”, hastily etched with Sock’s trusty knife.

A beat passed between them, so Jon broke the silence, feeling awkward. “Your folks are nice. Kinda quiet, though.” Jonathan said, trying to lighten the mood. He regretted the joke the second he made it. How callous could he be? Sure, Jonathan knew he could say some hurtful shit, but that was just downright _evil_...

Sock, however, giggled merrily, and Jonathan suddenly felt his face brighten at the sound and he felt warmer than he had all night. Sock spoke, noticing the cigarette still in Jon’s hand: “Those things will kill you, y’know. And you better get inside before you die of hypothermia.” Jon furrowed his brows, confused. Since when did Sock care about his well-being? But Sock answered his unspoken question with “You're not allowed to die until I say so.”

 

**_“They know, and they're on their own…”_ **

Sock found himself more intrigued with Jonathan with each passing day. He didn't understand why, but Jonathan had knocked something loose in him, and he had all these _feelings._ Feelings which he didn't even know how to comprehend, let alone express. The only other time he had cared about someone had been his parents, but even after accidentally killing them he hadn't really mourned them.

But Jonathan was _different_ , and something in his gut told him that he shouldn't let his job end. Sock, who would normally be itching to kill Jonathan, felt the urge dissipating the more he studied his counterpart. Sock was changing, into what he didn't know, but he was certain he didn't like it.

“He ain't gonna come around.” Mephistopheles warned the demon as they watched Jonathan play air guitar as he waited on the church steps of the graveyard for Sock one day after school. The demon looked at his boss, at first not understanding. Jon was already waiting for him, wasn't he? _How could he not come around if he was already there?_ Before Sock could counter this, however, his boss added: “He isn't gonna like you, kid. And even if he does, you're both too screwed up where it's not gonna work. You saw what happened to his little girlfriend. You're better on your own.” The Devil advocated.

Sock considered all that Mephistopheles had said, even as he floated off to meet Jon on the steps.

 

**_“Cause some boys don't know how to love….”_ **

It had been a while since he had stepped into the music room, but there was no way Jonathan was going to English. Lil’s icy glares and looks of dejection were too much to bear, and with Sock jabbering in his ear it wasn't like he'd be able to focus. So he walked into the music room and muttered a “Hey” to the teacher, who was way too blitzed out to even care that Jonathan wasn't supposed to be there. Jonathan was left alone, and he sat in the corner, playing his instrument.

Sock floated into the room and spotted Jonathan by himself, singing softly. Sock watched and listened, the gruff yet soft tenor voice ringing in his ears and making his chest swell in excitement. Jonathan noticed his demon arrive and gave a slight nod, but continued playing. Jonathan noticed the odd way Sock was looking at him, the red color on his cheeks and his body swaying slightly back and forth to his song. It was as if Jonathan’s singing had been an invocation, and Sock was entirely under his spell.

The song ended, but the blush on Sock’s cheeks hadn't, and he immediately chimed in, approaching Jonathan. “Play another song!” He demanded. He didn't know why he needed to hear more, but he knew it that moment nothing would make him happier. Even murder came secondary to this. He briefly recalled Mephistopheles’s warning about his feelings, and he wondered if maybe he did like Jonathan after all. Sock didn't normally care about appearances, but he supposed Jon was attractive. And he was fun to be around. And he had a good voice, even if it cracked in places. As Jon grinned at him, Sock felt his heart swell.

“ANOTHER!”  Sock clamored for a song.

Jon chuckled at Sock's excitement. In truth, he was pleased he had a fan, even one as annoying as Sock.

But that excitement faded and he scowled when Sock put in his song request: “I'm not playing the Hokey Pokey!”

 

“ ** _Some boys are filling, some boys are filling the hole…”_**

The last thing Jonathan expected was for Lil to approach him like she had. It had been a month, and she hadn't so much as muttered a simple “hello” to him, so to have her corner him in the music room like that had been surprising.

“We should talk.” She offered, and Jonathan had shrugged it off with an air of non-committance, like he would have if his mom had ordered him to do the dishes.

He explained the encounter to Sock, the demon who had slowly turned from annoyance to sole confidant in the span of however many weeks. And Sock’s response had him surprised.

“You can't! She's gonna try to get back together with you!” Sock had warned, remembering that Mephistopheles had said the same thing. Panic rose in the demon’s chest at the idea.

_“You're a demon, Sowachowski, and Combs’s a human. Even if he plays for that team, he couldn't be with you even if he wanted. He needs another human. Like Nancy. They'll probably be back together before you know it…”_

“Why do you care what I do?” Jon asked, wondering why Sock suddenly had an interest in his love life. He supposed Sock was just trying to keep him focused on killing himself. Lil was a distraction from that.

Sock turned a thick shade of scarlet, and fumbled his words. “I… uh, well you see… it's just that I….” the demon tugged at the flaps of his hat anxiously, his mouth suddenly locking up. His throat felt parched and the idea of finishing the sentence terrified him.

But he couldn't bring himself to say how he felt. How could he articulate how he felt when he didn't fully understand it? When Sock kept his mouth shut, Jonathan shrugged and turned back to his lunch.

He went to meet with Lil. Half an hour later, they were in his bedroom, naked, and and he was on top of her. Though this was a prime opportunity to haunt Jonathan, Sock couldn't bring himself to screw with the boy who was screwing someone else. He couldn't, and wouldn't dare look.

 

**_“Some boys are sleeping, some boys are sleeping alone…”_ **

Lil had invited him to stay the night, but Jon turned her down. Again. For the third time that week. Sock lingered outside the door of Nancy’s house, not daring to look inside. He couldn't bear to see Jon and that girl. The very idea turned his stomach and made him feel an irrational sense of _anger_ , and he didn't know why. Jon soon emerged, and he started following Jon back to the bus stop, not unlike the one they met at. Neither said anything, and Jonathan accepted that Sock was following him around, not particularly questioning it. But then he broke the silence:

“You ever been in love?” The teenager asked, turning to the demon, who froze at the question. Before he could open his mouth, the deep burgundy in his cheeks suddenly appeared, and Sock stumbled through a reply. “I… I don't know.” Jon pulled out a cigarette as they waited, and explained: “It's just… I feel like I should be in love with her, and I'm not. And I think she's in love with me.”

The words caused something in Sock’s stomach to twinge unpleasantly. That feeling of anger again. He wanted to kill her, he wanted to fly into Lil’s room, pull out his trusty knife, and dig said knife into her jugular. Or carve through her collarbone with a cleaver. Hell, he'd even settle for old fashioned asphyxiation by pillow if it got the job done.

“Have… have you ever been in love?” Sock asked, as the bus pulled up. But Jon got on it, without an answer. Sock watched him leave, giving a small, half-hearted wave.

Hours later, Sock laid in in his room in Hell, trying desperately to ignore the light snoring from his roommate, Tom. He was still trying to make sense of his feelings. So he liked Jonathan. Today had pretty much confirmed that. What was he to do with that knowledge?

He thought of his parents, and how in love they had been. Aside from concerns about their son, their marriage had been a happy one. A memory emerged, of his father buying a present for his mother for no reason other than the fact that it was a Wednesday. Perhaps Jonathan would like a surprise present? _But what to get?_ Traditional gifts like flowers or chocolate seemed too sappy for the teen full of apathy. The gift would have to be more specific. Soon his mind wandered to the time he gifted Jojo with a squirrel. That hadn’t gone well, and he doubted Jonathan would appreciate the sophisticated beauty of a dead mammal anyway.  
  
_So what would he like?_ Sock mulled this over as he turned over on his bed, unable to sleep. He thought of Jonathan in the music room, and the half smile that Jon had given him when Jon saw him. Sock was _screwed_. He had _feelings_ for his counterpart. But how did Jonathan feel about him? Jonathan spent most of his time acting annoyed, but Sock had long since discerned that was more of a front than anything else. But the question of how Jonathan really felt had been a mystery. He sighed, wishing Jonathan was there, next to him. Maybe he could try and talk this out with him, and gauge his reaction.

Jonathan’s question still burned in his mind.

_“Have you ever been in love?”_

Jonathan’s lack of an answer turned his mind into an inferno.

 

“ ** _Some boys don't know how to love…”_**

Mephistopheles was floored when Sock asked him Jon’s question.

“Love? Me? In love?” Mephi asked, though his voice was clearly strained and it seemed as if he was choking the words out rather than speaking them. “Have I ever been in love?” He parroted back to Sock, though his disbelief at the question seemed feigned at best and hallowed at worst.

“What in the world made you ask that?” Mephistopheles asked, dodging answering entirely. Sock shrugged, immediately lying.

“Just curious.” But Sock was a terrible liar, and the Devil knew this, even without having to say it.

“Huh. Well kid, I've never been in love, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's an entirely human thing, and you're a demon, Sowachowski.” His boss reminded him.

“You can't afford to get attached. That's rule number one. No falling for your counterpart. Or it's reassignment. Got it?”

 

**“No, some boys don't know how to love…”**

Jon glared at the report card, his white knuckles gripping the paper far too tightly, jaw locked, teeth clenched, eyes glaring with such an intensity at the various letters on the paper. Sock hovered slightly behind him, looking over his shoulder, his curiosity piqued.

“How'd you do?” Sock asked, innocently.

Jonathan didn't turn around, his anger at Sock magnifying the longer he glared at the Ds and Fs that taunted him.

“Jonathan?”

“Get away from me.” Jon muttered.

“It couldn't have been THAT, bad…” Sock started, but Jonathan slammed his fist down on the desk, making the demon jump slightly. Kids in front of Jonathan spun around at the noise.

“I SAID LEAVE!” Jonathan ordered. Sock immediately bolted from the room, flying through the nearby wall with the ease of a synchronized swimmer. Normally he'd be all for tormenting Jonathan, especially with his temper flaring. But seeing the other boy hunched over his desk, the paper trembling in his hands, the look of defeat glazing over and terraforming into one of frustration and fury, was troubling.

It made Sock feel something, an emotion he hadn't felt since the loss of his parents: _Guilt_. And not only that, but _shame_. He hated this feeling. It was worse than the butterflies that seemed to nest in his guts whenever Jon was around. He knew the report card was full of failing grades; Jon couldn't focus or study. Because of him.

He wanted to do anything to take the butterflies and Jon’s hurt away, and he wished for a moment he had tangible form, if only to wield a knife against Jonathan, to purify him for the cursed emotions he felt. Life was a burden he'd be able to free Jonathan from, if only he had the chance.

_“But what happens when I get him to actually do it?”_ He recalled asking Mephistopheles once. And for whatever reason, the idea of Jonathan in Hell was not something he found reassuring. Rather, he felt _scared_. Scared as to what Jonathan’s ultimate fate would be, because for whatever reason, he felt like he couldn't let Jonathan die.

So why did Sock also want to kill him?

Sock decided to take some space from Jonathan for the time being, and crept back to Hell, where he lingered morosely in his room.

 

**_“No, some boys don't know how to love…”_ **

Jonathan looked over at the sleeping Lil, before getting up and throwing on a pair of boxers. He trudged downstairs, being as quiet as possible. He went into his fridge, opened it, wincing at the bright light. He grabbed the carton of milk, unscrewed the top, and began chugging it.

Suddenly, a transparent form dove at him from inside the fridge, and Jonathan dropped the milk in surprise, stepping back. It was Sock, who was laughing hysterically at the fright he had caused.

“The fuck, dude!?” Jonathan bemoaned, thankful that he hadn't screamed and woken Lil, or worse, his mother.

He went over to the light switch and flicked on the light, before he scowled at the sight of the downed milk carton.

“Got ya!” Sock bragged.

Jonathan ignored him and went for the sink, grabbing a sponge and wetting it.

“Nice shorts.” Sock said, eyeing the pair of boxers Jonathan was wearing. His eyes traveled from Jonathan’s ass, up Jonathan’s firm back and shoulders, and before he knew it, he found himself turning red again. Jonathan wasn't athletic, but he had a nice, skinny build like a swimmer, and Sock whistled in appreciation. He hoped Jon would act flustered.

To his dismay, Jonathan ignored him and set to work cleaning up the spilled milk.

“So What's-her-name is staying the night now? You two are getting pretty serious.” Sock asked, changing subject. He wanted to get some sort of reaction out of the teen. Maybe Jonathan had some sort of commitment-phobia he could exploit.

“You know her name. It's Lil. And she's fine. What're you doing here, anyway? It's like… 3am. Aren't you off the clock?” Jonathan replied.

“Working overtime.” Sock said, not missing a beat, and then continuing. “So, you guys are back together? I thought you didn't care about her.”

Jonathan shrugged, turning to the fridge and putting the carton away. He rinsed out the sponge in the sink.

“She’s s’ok, I guess.” Jonathan answered, noncommittally.

“But you don't love her.”

“Nope.”

“Then why are you with her?”

“Why do you care?” Jonathan asked, turning to face the demon, who had suddenly turned a shade of bright crimson.

“I don't.” The demonary lied. “I just think you could do better.”

“Better?” Jon repeated, not believing the demon for a second.

“Yeah… you guys don't even have that much in common, y’know? You guys are always fighting. You need someone you can laugh with. Someone who doesn't get scared of horror movies and will watch’em with you. Someone who won't break up with you every other week and who won't ever leave you. Someone…”

Sock was as red as a stop light, and he floated closer to Jonathan.  It became all too clear to Sock that during his monologue he had been referring to himself, though that hadn't been his intent at the outset. The butterflies were swarming in his chest, even after he did his level best to try and ignore them. His eyes met Jonathan’s, their faces only a few inches apart.

“Someone…”

   
**_  
“No, some boys don't know how to love…”_**

Sock suddenly leaned forward and tried to kiss Jonathan, his eyes closed and lips pursed together. But unfortunately, the demon went right through the teen, falling through him, intangible. Their lips never touched. And they never would. A freezing blast coursed through Jonathan’s veins, and he shivered.

“What the hell?” Jonathan asked. He instinctively backed away, as Sock righted himself. It was all too clear what the ghost had tried to attempt. Waves of panic frothed in the living teen’s chest.

“What was that?” Jonathan asked. Sock didn't answer, unable to look his crush in the eyes. “You tried to kiss me?”

A beat passed between them.

“You LIKE me?” Jonathan’s voice rising in shock. He momentarily forgot about his mother, or the sleeping Lil. Right now there was only Sock and him, alone, in the kitchen.

Again, he was met with silence, but there was a deliberate shift in Sock’s countenance that spoke of confirmation. Jonathan was stunned and horrified all at once. His demon, the person who had became his closest friend, who also wanted him to kill himself, had a crush on him.

“I didn't mean to, okay! It just… happened!”

“How? You're trying to kill me!” Jonathan reminded him.

“Technically I'm trying to get you to kill yourself!” Sock countered, though he figured that was more of a matter of semantics.

“That doesn't matter, you want me dead!” Jonathan reasoned, the panic and concern in his voice rising now.

“Only because it's my job to! I don't want you to actually die!” Sock admitted, the words holding a lot more weight for him than he realized. He knew he felt this way, but vocalizing it made it that much more powerful, more real. The hurt look in Sock’s green eyes and the gravity of those words hit him, and Jonathan felt less afraid.

Jonathan thought about all the signs. The flirting, which he had originally thought was just to rile him. Those peeks at the shower and the urinal. His frustration about Lil and the investment in the deterioration of the relationship. Looking back, it was obvious. Sock was jealous. Sock was jealous because he liked Jon. And Jon had no idea what to do with this information.

“I'm sorry.” Sock admitted, feelings pangs of a new emotion. _Sadness._ The red-head looked as if he was going to cry, and Jonathan felt a bit of pity.

He told himself he was being ridiculous. But still, he felt sorry for the demon. “So what now?” 

“I… I don't know.”

Jonathan let out a deep sigh as he considered what to do. This would complicate everything. Sock was supposed to be his friend. But now he had _feelings_. The reasonable course of action would be to talk about it, to determine what to do next. But at 3am, in his underwear, the last thing Jon wanted to do was have a heart-to-heart.

“Go home, Sock. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” Jonathan offered, giving Sock a friendly smile, to show that he wasn't mad. To show that things were going to be okay, even if they had to be awkward as hell.

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” And with that, Sock disappeared back into Hell.

Jonathan watched him go, and then exited the kitchen, his mind racing. What would this mean for Sock? What would this mean for him? Sock liked him, but did he like Sock? A flurry of questions spun in his mind.

He'd figure it out tomorrow.

 

**_“They won't get what they want…”_ **

But tomorrow never came. The second Sock arrived in Hell, he had been summoned into Mephistopheles’s office. The Devil said nothing at first, his hands folded behind his back as he looked out the window of his office, leaving Sock sitting in a chair across from his desk.

“What did I tell ya, kid? What was the first thing I told ya, Sowachowski?” He didn't look at his employee. He was far too cross for that.

_“Shit.”_ Sock knew he was in trouble. He KNEW he was screwed.

He played dumb.

“Welcome to Hell, would ya like a hand?” Sock guessed.

“Cute.” Mephistopheles replied sarcastically, his face scrunched in annoyance as he turned around and glared at his employee. “I told ya not to fall for your mark.”

“I didn't mean to!”

“Yeah, well ya did, and now this Combs case is all messed up. How're you supposed to get him to punch his own ticket if you're in love with him? You're compromised, kid. And I can't have a compromised demonary on my staff.”

“I'm not compromised! I can do it! I'll get him to…” Sock started, but Mephistopheles cut off the rambling before it could continue as he raised his hand and walked back over to his desk.

The man in the maroon tailored suit sat down, emanating authority. “What was that ya said to him? ‘ _I don't want you to actually die!’?_ Sounds pretty compromised to me, kid. And since ya can't get the job done, I'm afraid I'm takin’ ya off the case.” Mephistopheles said, with an edge of finality.

Sock could feel everything crashing down on him as the words of his employer rang in his ears. Tears welled up before he could stop them. He was removed from the case, and now he'd never see Jonathan again.

 “Sorry, Sowachowski, you’re fired.” Mephistopheles said.  
  
Sock looked absolutely crestfallen, and he could feel the tears starting to escape from his eyes. He immediately turned away and hid his face in his hands, and Mephistopheles felt sympathy. He liked Sock. He really did. But the kid had wasted way too much time on Combs for his liking, and he had souls to collect.  
  
“I’m sorry, kid. Really.” The Devil said with a sigh, before adding. “Report back to me tomorrow, alright? We’ll get ya sorted out on a new job.”

 ------

Jonathan waited at the bus stop the next morning for Sock, for their talk, but Sock never showed.

 

 


End file.
